WHEN AMERICAN SYMBOLS ARE GETTING SICK OF AMERICA 

I blame the wind turbines

You Have Invented a New Kind of Stupid

Pairing: Lin x Reader SAD ANGST Warnings: Cheating, lots of crying, not eating, angst, swears.  Word count: 3118 A/N: I KNOW LIN WOULD NEVER DO THIS I’M SORRY I JUST GOT SO INTO IT. This was a request! “Anon asked: 2. “You can hate me, you can dislike me but how can you cheat on me?” This with literally anyone fuck up my emotions pls” ANON I HOPE THIS FUCKS UP YOUR EMOTIONS ENOUGH I’M SORRY ALSO I MIGHT DO A PART TWO TELL ME IF YOU ALL WOULD WANT THAT

It wasn’t the late hours that had worried you.

Lin was busy. You had accepted that early into your relationship with him. He was always busy.

When he had begun to text you telling you that he was spending the night at the theater, you began to worry. You confronted him about it, telling him only that you were worried that he was spending too much time at the theater, never accusing him of cheating, despite the fear that riddled your head, swearing that he was.

In response, he promised you that it was only because with the rising popularity of Hamilton, the show demanded his full attention, so he had been spending nights at the theater with the sole purpose of bettering the show. To which you only nodded, smiling as a voice in the back of your head reminded you that Hamilton had been at Richer Rogers for over three months. The script was done, the choreography was done, the music was done. There shouldn’t have been anything to work on.

You tried to push it out of your head, trying to disregard all the hours Lin was not spending away from you, either at the theater or cooped up in his office. “Hey,” you whispered, pushing the half-closed door of his office open, seeing him, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, a grey tint evident in his skin.

“Hey,” he said, surprised by your presence, quickly locking his phone, setting it down next to him. “I thought you were asleep.” He stated, his eyes wandering your frame. You were in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of cotton underwear, a blanket from your bed wrapped around your shoulders.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You said tersely, his eyes meeting yours. “Come back to bed,” you begged tears forming in your eyes, “please. I miss you.”

He looked to his phone, crossing the dimly lit room to meet you, pulling you into hug, “Sh,” he cooed, his hand smoothing your hair, your head falling onto his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, “I’ll come to bed.”

You looked at him, tears flowing down your cheeks, some staining his shirt as you forced a smile, “I’d like that,” you looked down, your forehead resting on his chest, “I miss you so much. You’re always gone. Please come home tomorrow after the show.” “I will, I promise,” he said, leading the two of you to your bedroom.

You laid down on your half of the bed, Lin crossing over to his side, joining you under the covers. Leaning over to him, you kissed him softly, your hand cupping his face, eyes closed, tears threatening to spill out of them. “Thank you.” You sobbed. Lin pulled you close to him, your head resting beneath his chin, his arm secured tightly around you, promising not to let you go. “You know that I’m proud of you, right?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his muscles relaxing beneath you, “I know.”

So you laid there, your head on his chest, the of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep as your fear persisted in the back of your mind.

The next day found you sitting at the table with Lin, a freshly made breakfast shared between the two of you. “What time is the show tonight?” you asked before taking a sip of coffee. “7:00. Just a night show. I’ll be home before ten-thirty. I promise. I’ll get out as soon as I can.” He rambled, seeming to feel bad about having had neglected you the last few weeks.

You smiled, happy that you would finally have a night with him. The two of you finished your breakfast together, small talk filling the air.  “I’ll come to the show tomorrow,” you said, finishing a final sip of coffee, “I’ve only seen it twice and it’s the show that my boyfriend wrote. I need to see it more.” “That would be great, [Y/N],” he smiled, standing up to walk your plates to the sink, pressing a kiss to your cheek. The rest of the day, you sat with him on the couch, cuddled up against him, a blanket encircling the two of you. You felt content, knowing that it was likely that nothing was wrong. He wouldn’t cheat on you. The two of you had been together for years, you watched him write Hamilton, watched it as it was first preformed on stage, you got to live every exciting moment of his life with him, and he got to live every exciting moment of your life. He wouldn’t throw that away.

You drove him to the theater, dropping him off in front, making him promise he would leave as soon as he could, to which he smiled, swearing that he would.

The night dragged on forever, you glanced your phone, reading the time, every five minuets. Eventually, it was ten-thirty. You eagerly waited on the couch, something playing on the television as your eyes were glued to the door. You continued to check your phone, seconds passing between each glance, eventually, ten-thirty grew to eleven.

You texted Lin, the softness of your heart hardening. Hey babe. Home soon? I hope the show went okay! You sent the text, five minuets without a response.

I’m getting worried. Are you coming home? Another ten minuets passed. Nothing.

In a panic, you decided to call him, his phone immediately going to voicemail.

Oh, you thought, your face losing color as you searched for Daceed’s number, he picked up on the first ring. “Is Lin there?” you asked, your voice faltering, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“I haven’t seen him,” he said slowly, clearly confused, “he said he was going home right after the show.”

“He’s not here.” You fumed, anger filling you. “I’m coming to the theater, let me in.”

“Stage door.” He said quickly. “When will you be here?”

“Ten or so minuets.” You hung up the phone, throwing your coat over you as you headed out the door.

The walk took you precisely eleven minuets. You only noticed this because you check your phone every second, waiting for a text of call from Lin, neither of which ever came. Reaching the stage door, you knocked quietly, Daveed immediately greeting you, a smile on his face.

“[Y/N]!” He beamed, pulling you in for a hug.

You melted into the hug, appreciating the contact, your body shaking from the cold air and the anxiety that had overtaken you. “Hi Daveed,” you said with as much excitement as you could muster. “I’m going to go to Lin’s dressing room. Come with me?” you begged, terrified of what you may find in his room.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, moving aside to let you in, shutting the door behind you.

You walked slowly behind Daveed, trying to force whatever was happening in his room to stop, silently pleading for this to be all a dream. As his room drew nearer, you noticed the light seeping out from beneath the crack of the door. It’s fine, you thought, he just forgot to turn it off. You almost believed your eyes, until you noticed shifting shadows moving in the lights, soft sounds muffled from behind the door.

“Want me to go in with you?” Daveed asked, thinking exactly what you were thinking.

“No, “ you said, your hand attaching to the doorknob, “just, wait here. Please.” He nodded, a sympathetic smile growing on his face, “yes ma’am.” You turned away from him, facing the door. You didn’t want to go in. You knew what was happening in there. But you had to see it. You had to confront him.

Like tearing off a bandaid, you pushed the door open, your body paralyzed by shock as you watched the scene that was laid out before you. Lin’s back was to you, fully naked, his hair cascading around his shoulders. On his back were the finely manicured hands of a woman, her body pressed against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. The sound of her moans filled the air, Lin’s grunts harmonizing with them as he thrusted into her. Then, as if in slow motion, he turned to face you, your phone falling out of your hand. Surprisingly, no tears fell out of your eyes as you watched, furious, your mouth falling open.

“ [Y/N],” Lin began, pulling himself out of the woman, grabbing her shirt to throw in front of himself, covering his hard-on.

“I don’t want to hear it.” You started, biting your lip. “Don’t bother coming home tonight, you already broke that promise.” You whispered, reaching down to grab your phone, leaving the room, slamming down behind you.

The tears came when you saw Daveed leaning against the wall, arms open, immediately leaning towards you. “It’s okay,” he said as you crashed into him your body shaking in his arms, tears falling out of your eyes, staining his Oakland tshirt, “I’ll drive you home, c’mon.” He said, keeping you wrapped in a hug as he led you out of the stage door to his car.

You cried the whole way home. Your breath staggering as you tried to talk, trying to comprehend what you had just seen. But, all that came out were loud, ugly sobs. The drive to your apartment seemed to last forever, your phone blowing up with texts and phone calls from Lin. You didn’t read any texts or pick up his calls. You were to hurt to face him.

Daveed pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, helping you out of the car and into your apartment. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked, helping you to the couch as you continued to sob.

You shook your head. You didn’t want him to see you like this and you didn’t want him to the fight that you and Lin were about to have. He agreed, staying only long enough to see you to bed, making sure to leave a full glass of water on the nightstand table next to you.

You thanked him as he left, apologizing for dragging him into the whole mess, promising to make it up to him. Then, you locked your bedroom door and cried.

The sheets seemed to engulf you, the smell of his cologne still heavy as you cried into a pillow. You laid there for what felt like forever, occasionally screaming into the pillow, your tears eventually running dry, eyes unwilling to produce anymore as you laid there, your eyes shut as you dry-sobbed.

You laid there for another eternity until there was a quiet knock at the door. “[Y/N],” you heard Lin’s voice, clouded by tears, “please, let me in.” He begged.

Staying silent, you dug your head into the pillow, muffling your sobs as he sat outside the door.

“Please,” he continued, a sob escaping him, “[Y/N], I’m so sorry. Please, let me in.” He continued, his fist gently tapping against the door.

You laid there for a considerable amount of time, listening to him droll on, begging for you to let him in. His voice as raw with tears, sobs often consuming his words as he spoke. Eventually, though, there was nothing but silence in your ears as you fell asleep, his words fading into the background.

You woke up the next morning with tearstained cheeks, your eyes bloodshot, and your whole face was puffy. You sighed into the pillow, not wanting to face Lin. You knew that you had to, but the idea was daunting. You had nothing to say to him.

Forcing yourself out of bed, you took off the clothes you had been wearing the night before, having not changed out of them when you got home. You put on a tshirt and a pair of jeans, trying to delay going out to talk to him for as long as possible. You walked out to see him at the kitchen table, dozens of plates set out before him, each filled with food. “I made breakfast,” he said, standing to meet you, reaching to draw you in for a hug, “[Y/N] I’m so—“

You stopped him, pushing his body away, your eyes screwing shut. “I don’t want to hear it, Lin. You can hate me,” you began, tears spilling out of your eyes, your words breaking, “you can dislike me but how can you cheat on me?”

He looked at you, stunned as tears clouded his eyes, “[Y/N]—“

“No. Lin. I don’t want to see you right now. Go to the theater. I’ll see you at your night show tonight. I have nothing to say to you.” You spun on your heel, sobs escaping you as you walked out of the kitchen, back into to bedroom. You head him call after you, following you to the bedroom as you slammed and locked the door in his face. “Just leave me alone!” You sobbed, collapsing onto your bed.

You heard him stand at the door, crying into his hands as he waited for you. Finally you heard him release another sob, “I’ll see you at the show tonight. I’m sorry. I love you.”

From that point on, you were alone, locked in your bedroom, crying. You had, at one point, gotten up to eat something, the food he had made now put away, sitting in the fridge in small tupperwear containers, one with a post-it note on it. It read; “please eat something.” Lin knew you too well, or maybe, he was eating just as little as you were.

The rest of the say was spent on the couch watching a show that you would normally find hilarious but now seemed to fall flat as you continued to cry. You occasionally checked your phone, which had gone unchecked since Daveed had left your apartment. As you scrolled through the notifications, most being from Lin, two things stood out to you.

One, there was no “goodnight” or “good morning” tweets from Lin, for whom you had tweet notifications on. The only tweet from Lin read; I’m sorry. Congratulations. Followed by a link to a demo on soundcloud. You listened to it, having listened to it dozens of times before, you sang along with it, your voice breaking as you cried more. You screamed the words, wishing he was there in front of you as you used his words against him, the final bars of the song leaving you a wreck on the couch.

And two, you had a single text from Daveed, sent only three minuets ago, simply reading: Are you still coming to the show tonight? You texted back with simply, yes., pushing yourself off the couch, realizing that if you wanted to be on time, you had to leave in fifteen minuets. You got ready fast, pulling on the first dress you could find, hardly attempting to fix yourself with any makeup, you rushed out the door, quickly walking to the theater.

Finding your way to your seat with ease, you looked onto the stage. You were third row, a perfect view of the stage. As the show began, you immediately noticed how weak Lin seemed, his performance not holding the usual electricity it usually did. You watched intently, Daveed occasionally smiling at you, and Lin desperately trying to grab your attention.

During intermission, your phone blew up with texts from Lin, all begging for you to meet him back stage. You ignored the texts, waiting at your seat for the second act to start. As it did start, Lin’s already weak performance became weaker, he missed steps, mixing up words in choreography. He was a mess.

Then, the part of the show that you had been dreading began. Lin sat at a desk, his reddened eyes illuminated by the stage lights, and he began his verse of Say no to this. You cringed, watching as Maria walked on stage, expertly seducing Lin. But, immediately, the dynamic shifted as she kissed him. You watched him freeze for a moment, the chorus of “No”’s echoing behind him as he stood on stage motionless, not singing a word. There was another beat before he reached for the mic that had been hidden in his hair, ripping it off of his forehead, he muttered “fuck,” tears streaming down his face. And, in only a moment, he ran off the stage, the show grinding to a halt.

Without thinking, you ran outside, finding the stage door, banging on it until someone let you in. Finally, Daveed appeared, opening the door for you. He began to say something but you pushed past him, finding Lin’s dressing room, the door locked.

You frantically knocked, crying, “Lin, it’s me. Please. Open it.” You heard yourself speak, the words feeling foreign as they left your mouth. You were still furious at him, but, your heart softened for him after seeing him run off stage. “Lin, please,” you sobbed, your heart breaking for a second time.

His heavy footsteps clamored to the door, his body crashing against it as he quickly opened it. Upon seeing him, you immediately pulled him into a heavy hug, his weak body staggering against you as your weight pushed him into the room, closing the door behind the two of you.

His head found the crook of your neck, burring himself in your hair as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried, repeating the phrase one-thousand times as the two of you stood there, your bodies shaking as you cried, “I’m so sorry.”

You led him to the couch, your bodies fell onto it, laying on the old furniture, he immediately pulled you into a tight embrace as though if he didn’t hold you so tight, you would vanish. “I’m sorry,” he said, smoothing your hair, your tears falling on the fabric of his Hamilton costume, the jacket having been discard on the floor. “I don’t hate you,” he whispered through a sob, “I don’t dislike you,” he continued, his grip tightening on you. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, I should have never—“ His voice broke. You nodded, unable to say anything as you were overcome with tears, your arms tightening around him, crying as he continued to mumble apologies into your ear.

The two of you laid the for what felt like forever, his hand circling your back as you cried into him, his mumbles continuing as the two of you fell asleep, content to be crying in each other’s arms.

Wow I can honestly say I wasnt expecting this, it's amazing how two people can break from that sort of heartache and still be the ones to help eachother through it. If you continue this tag me please

EXCLUSIVE: 'Once Upon a Time' Bosses Discuss That Big Robin Hood Twist and If We'll Get a Season 7!

Robin Hood is back in Storybrooke! Well… kind of.

In tonight’s spring premiere of Once Upon a Time, Emma and Regina managed to escape from Wish Land (with a lot of help from August, of course!) and they brought along a familiar face with them.

Regina, who is both baffled and enamored to see Robin Hood again, fully understands that this is not the man that she fell instantly in love with all those years ago in an Enchanted Forest pub. Her Robin is still dead. (Thanks a lot, Hades.) However, we never did get to discover whatever happened to his soul, so now it looks like we might finally get some answers as Regina’s love life is tested once again.

ET called up Once’s spellbinding showrunners, Adam Hororwitz and Eddy Kitsis, to get the exclusive scoop on what’s next for Regina, if this means that Sean Maguire is back for good, and the latest behind-the-scenes status on season seven.

Regina brought Wishland Robin back with her to Storybrooke! So does this mean that Sean Maguire is back for good? Eddy Kitsis: Sean is back for an arc. So if people think he’s going to be brought back on… Adam Horowitz: Sean is back for multiple episodes and it is an arc with his character. You know, we don’t want to say how it ends, or why it ends, or what happens, but it’s fun to have him reprise the role but with a little bit of a twist.

So since Robin won’t be sticking around for good, would you say that fans should cherish the time we have with him? AH: I think fans should cherish the time that we have with all of them.

We know that this is not the Robin Hood that fans have come to know and love, but at times, Regina still looks at him as if this is her long-lost love. How is this twist going to be affecting Regina moving forward? EK: Well I think that’s exactly the right question, Leanne, which is how is it going to affect someone? He looks just like him, and it’s kind of like a twin brother. That’s not necessarily the Robin she knew and fell in love with – but, yet, it is Robin. I think it’s really frying her brain and I think that finding out who he is is going to cause her to ask some big questions: What does she hope to get out of this? Can you replace someone? Is this the right thing? And who is he? Those are kind of all the little character mysteries that we explain in the second half of this season.

Looking even further ahead, what is the latest on if we’ll get a season seven of Once Upon a Time? AH: We really can’t talk about it right now, but I would say we hope to be back next season. EK: I would say this: We have a plan for season seven. We have one that we really love and the network has not yet made a decision, but you know, if the fans want a season seven, they should feel free to let their voices be heard.

x

Okay but why is no one asking how this is going to affect little Roland

Flashes - Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Words: 1,545

Warnings: Swearing, mild fluff (that’s about it)

A/N: Wow. I still can’t believe how much love this is getting from everyone! Thank you for liking my series so far, everyone! I decided to update earlier (but then again, this might be a one-time thing bc everyone knows I do not have an update schedule and I’m lazy af LOL). Anyways, I hope you like this part and feel free to ask for tags, request oneshots and so on! Enjoy! :3

You’d been about half an hour in of glancing through the information in the manilla folders, most of it about some of the things that the Avengers did and some about recent patients that had visited Sam before. There were handwritten sticky notes scrawled on the individual papers, clearly written and put there by Sam.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, before the wooden door cracked open to reveal Sam’s small smile. It was a comforting feeling, and you felt yourself grin back, a temporary moment of elation within you. Someone was happy to see you, at least.

He walked inside and seemingly held open the door for someone. You were about to question who it was when Bucky Barnes — the one and only — entered your brand-new office. You felt your blood run cold with the first signs of your Anxiety show up, your stomach feeling like it was filled with a swam of butterflies, both comfortable but painful at the same time.

The metal-armed man shut the door behind him, and then joined Sam’s side, although you could see the slight reluctance in his step. You closed the manilla folder you’d currently been reading through and placed it on your desk, before facing the two of them and doing your best to not meet Bucky’s eyes. You felt like whenever you did meet them, he knew every little secret you had kept, every little detail of your life. It was dizzying and insanely confusing.

“What’s up, Sam?” You asked, surprised at how strangely calm your voice seemed with the storm raging on inside you. Sam’s presence made this better, at least. If you just focused on him, you’d be fine.

“So because you’re my assistant now,” Sam began, grinning like a young child. You wondered what he was up to as he went on, “I wanted you to take over this appointment.”

You were pretty damn sure you forgot how to breathe when Sam uttered those words. He wanted you to— with him?… Oh, Sam was one son of a bitch.

“With—?” You let your eyes flit to Bucky for a tenth of a second before losing all confidence again and facing Sam again. Thank God you didn’t actually meet Bucky’s eyes, instead having focused on his shining metal arm. You knew that Bucky had noticed your line of sight, but he said nothing and let you and Sam chat this out first.

“Yep,” Sam confirmed with a sly smirk. You internally groaned. Bastard. But externally, you stayed professional and only hesitated a little before you nodded, gently placing the manilla folders aside and tugging your right sleeve down again, and then opening the new notebook and grabbing a pen from the bunch of them.

“Alright, I’m gonna go,” Sam finally announced, gesturing for Bucky to sit down. He winked at you so Bucky couldn’t see it, and you were this close to shooting out of your seat to sock Sam in the stomach. That ass was making fun of you, wasn’t he? Ugh, great. “You kids have fun.”

And with that, Sam strode out of the office, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you engulfed in silence.

You could hear your heart thumping in your chest — hell, maybe even he could hear it, too. After moments of nothing, you finally spoke up, slightly weaker than before, “Okay, then. What do you want to start with?”

“What the deal is with you,” Bucky almost immediately replied, as if he’d been thinking of that answer before this conversation even started. Your brows knitted together as you processed his words.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“Well,” Bucky pointed out as he leaned back into the seat in front of your desk. “I’ve either met you before or something weird’s up with you. You a voodoo-chick like Wanda or something? Or what now?”

You felt unbelievably confused, before it finally clicked with you. He could feel the pull.

When you’d seen him, you felt an unbelievably strong pull towards him, to just run into his arms and stay nestled there forever. But your feet didn’t budge until you had to shake his hand. Maybe… he’d felt it, too? Oh, great. Now he thought you were a fucking voodoo-chick.

Your internal monologue raged on, before you snapped yourself out of it and raised an eyebrow and answered his question as logically as possible. “No. I—I’ve been in the army, but that’s about it.”

You could see the gears turn in his head as he worked his way around the answer, before he perked up again. Damn, this guy was like half a puppy. “Oh, right. Explains your scars.”

Well, now you just felt mildly attacked — until you remembered that he’d seen those scars last week. He’d seen them, Captain fucking America had seen them, Sam and seen and talked to you about them because you were incapable of letting go and those scars were a permanent reminder that you’d escaped the clutches of death even though you’d originally wanted to embrace them. Right. Those scars.

Your silence seemed to drone on for an awkward amount of time, because then, Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes. “Sorry,” he said meekly. “Didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”

For some reason, you couldn’t stay mad at him. Must a soulmate thing, but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t possibly hold a grudge against how direct he was. Somehow, you felt a new jolt go through you as you realised he was one of the people who didn’t handle you with kiddie-gloves like everyone else. It was a relieving thing to feel.

“It’s okay,” you felt yourself weakly smile, your eyes finding the notebook on your desk. “But we’re not here to talk about me. Go ahead, tell me anything you like.”

Bucky smirked at you, looking deep into your eyes to try and figure you out. You were almost entranced by those sky-blue eyes, but then you broke the eye-contact and your eyes travelled down to the empty lines of the notebook. You could sense Bucky’s smile, but said nothing as you once again pulled down your right sleeve and picked up the pen.

“Okay, I’ll talk,” Bucky finally said, confirming your suggestion and then leaned back as he began flashing through some tragic moments in his mind that had come back to him after all the brainwashing. As he spoke, you were mesmerised by his voice. He could be talking about paint drying and you’d find it interesting.

But you knew he didn’t feel that way about you.

And he probably never would.

The two of you stayed in your office for hours, with him talking about everything possible, occasionally adding in little, funny details about the constant recklessness of Steve or stupid things that they did just to make you laugh. You laughed far more than you have in several years. By the end of his very tragic — and slightly hilarious — tale, it was two in the afternoon. You glanced at the clock and then out the window, seeing the sun still shining brightly in the sky, just a bit higher than when you’d last checked.

“What a day,” Bucky breathed, his shoulders feeling lighter from being able to get that off his chest. “Y’know, you might just know more ‘bout me than Steve now.”

You felt your lips tug into a content smile, soft on your face as you wrote down the last details you needed in the three and a half pages you used up for Bucky. Then, you put the book and pen down, shaking your hand out from all that writing. You could’ve used a computer — you just preferred having this information where a hacker won’t find it and take it away from you. You might be a closed book like that, sure, but at least your clients’ safety won’t be violated by some asshole with a laptop.

“So,” Bucky began again, his Brooklyn accent slipping through a bit as he talked — it had been happening ever since he began talking about Brooklyn. “Sam told’ya yet tha’ you’re stayin’ in the Tower?”

Your eyebrows almost raised to your hairline as you glanced up at him in shock. “What?”

“Oh, so he didn’t,” Bucky muttered, before smirking at you lazily. “I dunno why, but he wanted you to stay here. Maybe he’s crushin’ on you. But, yeah, he wanted you stayin’ at the Avengers Tower.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I— I don’t know what to say— I mean—”

“—(Y/N)?” Sam poked his head through the door, and your eyes shot up to his. You swore you saw Bucky roll his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure. “I was just wondering whether you wanted to stay at the Tower for the night — Stark wanted to see you.”

You were conflicted as to whether you should stay here or not, seeing as you’d probably wake people with your usual nightly terrors. It just wasn’t a good idea. You were so used to living alone that this would be so fucking terrifying to you that you would probably pass out or something. But then, you felt your lips form one word.

“Okay.”

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tag me for this series please?

Hello friends! Guess who’s back? Spoiler - it’s me. So I have a confession - I love soulmate AUs. I’ve not written Pietro in a while so I eased myself into this by focusing predominantly on another character. It needs a second part to finish it off which I’ll upload soon. Hopefully the plot is twisty and interesting enough for you guys. Thanks to @sxnali for the request; I loved it. Enjoy, my darlings!

‘Almost a Mistake’ (Part 1)

There was a reason that New York was considered the city that never sleeps. Regardless of the hour, life was buzzing, left, right, and centre. Cars clamoured the roads in lines of traffic, and birds flew overhead, seeking and taking every opportunity amongst the crowds of hungry people that swarmed the streets.

The smell of hot dogs was prominent – especially on a Saturday when everyone and his mate was out on the streets. You wished that you could say you too had come out for fun but work had called you in for overtime, and the coming winter’s energy bills convinced you to take it.

With your headphones safely nestled on your head, you navigated the bustling tourists with your eyes on your iPod, trying to pick the best tune for the next leg of your journey. You’d splashed out on new headphones and for good reason – there were noise cancelling. As far as you were concerned, that made them worth the cost, tuning out the soundtrack of the city as you walked.

Each time you skipped a song, there was a moment of quiet where the world bled in. You heard horns beeping, steps smacking against the pavement, and even someone shouting in the distance. Probably a food vendor trying to sell to a passer-by. You skipped another song and got another flash of reality. Cooing pigeons, roaring engines, and still a person shouting. It was definitely male, and getting closer.

Keep reading

Hello friends! Guess who’s back? Spoiler - it’s me. So I have a confession - I love soulmate AUs. I’ve not written Pietro in a while so I eased myself into this by focusing predominantly on another character. It needs a second part to finish it off which I’ll upload soon. Hopefully the plot is twisty and interesting enough for you guys. Thanks to @sxnali for the request; I loved it. Enjoy, my darlings!

‘Almost a Mistake’ (Part 1)

There was a reason that New York was considered the city that never sleeps. Regardless of the hour, life was buzzing, left, right, and centre. Cars clamoured the roads in lines of traffic, and birds flew overhead, seeking and taking every opportunity amongst the crowds of hungry people that swarmed the streets.

The smell of hot dogs was prominent – especially on a Saturday when everyone and his mate was out on the streets. You wished that you could say you too had come out for fun but work had called you in for overtime, and the coming winter’s energy bills convinced you to take it.

With your headphones safely nestled on your head, you navigated the bustling tourists with your eyes on your iPod, trying to pick the best tune for the next leg of your journey. You’d splashed out on new headphones and for good reason – there were noise cancelling. As far as you were concerned, that made them worth the cost, tuning out the soundtrack of the city as you walked.

Each time you skipped a song, there was a moment of quiet where the world bled in. You heard horns beeping, steps smacking against the pavement, and even someone shouting in the distance. Probably a food vendor trying to sell to a passer-by. You skipped another song and got another flash of reality. Cooing pigeons, roaring engines, and still a person shouting. It was definitely male, and getting closer.

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Well that just hit me right in the feels

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